


A Safe Place To Hide

by intotheruins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, with a bit of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 08:14:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8320555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intotheruins/pseuds/intotheruins
Summary: Five times Sam climbed into Bobby's bed.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/gifts).



> This is a b-day present for Marce 'cause they're awesome <3.

Sam was only eight years old the first time he crawled into Bobby's bed.

John had left the boys with him for a couple of weeks while he hunted a shtriga. He hadn't explained why he wasn't taken the boys along like he normally did, but he hadn't needed to. Bobby could still remember that call from a ten-year-old Dean, crying so hard he'd barely been able to get words out, explaining how he'd let the shtriga John had been hunting at the time get to Sammy and it was his fault Sammy almost died.

Honestly, Bobby had almost taken out his shotgun and gone after John that night. He knew the guy meant well, that he was just that worried about his boys, but he put too much on them. Forced them to grow up too fast, especially Dean. So when John dropped them off to hunt this particular shtriga, Bobby took them in without question.

Dean thrived in the junkyard. Twelve years old and he could already take apart and rebuild an engine. Bobby handed him a tool kit on the second day and let him loose with the cars, watching from a distance to make sure he didn't hurt himself. He wondered what Dean would be like if John hadn't dragged them into hunting—kid was damn smart, could definitely end up in college studying Engineering or something like that.

Sam was quiet and withdrawn the first two days, burying himself in the books Bobby loaned him. It wasn't until the third morning, while Dean was still asleep, that Bobby found out Dean had told Sam about what John really did.

“Monsters under the bed aren't supposed to be real,” Sam had muttered. Eyes downcast, fists clenched tight against the kitchen table.

That was the night he crept into Bobby's room.

He'd noticed right away, hunting instincts kicking in and ensuring he was wide awake the moment the door silently slid open and light from the hallway poured over his bed. Dean always left that light on for Sam, said even the traces of it under the door helped him sleep.

Bobby cracked open one eye, but didn't move otherwise. He could just make out Sam's silhouette in the doorway, one hand still on the doorknob. The boy held very still for a moment, then carefully eased inside and slid the door shut.

“You awake?” Sam whispered.

“Yup,” Bobby murmured back.

“K. Um.” There was a soft shuffle in the dark, then a sudden scramble as Sam crawled onto the bed and practically launched himself at Bobby. Little arms wrapped around his neck, and the next thing he knew Sam had his face buried in his chest and was crying. Hard, choking sobs that, from the sound of it, were difficult to breathe around.

“Okay, you're okay.” Bobby wrapped an arm around the kid and tucked him in close, silently cursing John. “Nightmare?”

Sam didn't respond except to burrow in even closer, so Bobby just kept his arm around the boy and waited it out.

Eventually, the sobs softened to little sniffles and hiccups, until Sam quieted completely. He didn't try to move, though, and Bobby didn't make him.

“The stuff in your head can't get you,” Bobby promised. He rubbed a hand in slow circles over Sam's back.

“No,” Sam agreed, sounding far too old already. “But the stuff out there can.”

He fell asleep there, still tucked against Bobby's chest. The hunter thought about taking him back to his room, but in the end he fell asleep with both arms wrapped around him.

~

The second time, Sam was eleven and madder than hell at John.

“One more day!” Sam yelled, slamming his palm into the table. Dean was out in the yard, trying to hide sad eyes behind a carefree smile he hadn't quite perfected yet. “That was it! It's a fucking werewolf, it's on a schedule! We didn't need to leave right then!”

Bobby didn't bother correcting Sam's language. The kid was proficient with three different kinds of weapons, could take down other kids twice his size, and had too much age in his eyes for his handful of years. Language really wasn't that important in comparison.

“Your daddy can be a bit single-minded,” Bobby offered, though it was a weak offer at best.

Sam snorted. “Yeah. It's just... Dean really liked her, Bobby. Like, actually liked her, and if Dad had stayed one more day then Dean could have gone to that stupid dance with her, at least. Or even got to say goodbye. And I could have turned in my paper and said bye to my friends, too. But he didn't even let us drop by the school, he just dragged us out in the middle of the night and took off. Can't wait until Dean gets the car, then maybe he can leave and we can stick around for a while.”

The fight seemed to go out of him all at once. He sank down into a chair and hid his face in his hands. Bobby put his beer down on the counter and grabbed a Coke from the fridge.

“Here.” The hunter plunked it down in front of Sam, then grabbed his beer and took the chair opposite the boy. “Sam, you know it ain't gonna go on forever, right? When you're grown up, you don't have to be what he wants.”

Sam's hands slid away from his face. He ran a finger through the condensation around the can, eyes fixed on the movement. “Dean won't leave.”

No. Dean wouldn't leave. He'd been in the life from too young an age.

Neither of them said a word after that, and that night Sam didn't even bother to be quiet when he opened the door and climbed into the bed.

“You're a bit old for this,” Bobby muttered tiredly, but he still threw back the covers and wrapped an arm around Sam.

“Don't care,” Sam grumbled back, burying his face in Bobby's chest. “Not like I ever really got to be young, anyway.”

The anger that flared in his chest at that wouldn't die down. He lay still all night, listening to Sam breathe, forcing himself to appear cheerful in the morning.

But when John came to get his boys, Bobby confronted him. The resulting argument became so explosive that Bobby didn't see any of them again for years.

He regretted the hell out of it. Not because he lost his friendship with John, but because he could no longer really be a buffer for his boys.

They still called sometimes, Sam more than Dean. Bobby would get a call late at night and whisper to Sam until he fell asleep without hanging up the phone. Sam always promised to call again later.

When the calls stopped, Bobby knew John had caught him.

~

The third time, Sam was just shy of eighteen.

He showed up on the doorstep at noon, pale and shaking with exhaustion. Bobby stepped aside to let him in without a word. A glance over the yard as Sam passed told him that he'd come alone, and walked by the look of it.

Walked how far? Bobby frowned as he followed Sam to the kitchen, watched the kid collapse into a chair and just let his arms hang and his head fall back.

“Where's Dean?”

Sam sighed. “A town over. Dad's who the hell knows where, he took off on us a week ago and we haven't heard a thing. Dean's looking into a ghost, or maybe a poltergeist and I just... I can't anymore.”

Bobby paused. He went to the fridge and got them both a beer, figured Sam lived a rough enough life and was old enough to handle it. “Next town's eight miles over.”

Sam nodded. He took the beer and downed half of it in one go—definitely not his first, then. Dean had probably seen to that, which wasn't exactly a surprise. “I hitched a ride most of the way. Only walked two miles.”

Bobby arched an eyebrow. “Then why d'you look like you're about to keel over?”

A shrug and a shift of eyes said Sam didn't want to talk about it. Bobby kicked out a chair and took a swig of his beer, letting his gaze wander, keeping the majority of his focus off Sam.

It worked—Sam set the beer down hard enough to rattle the table. “I'm leaving,” he said quickly. “In a few months. I got accepted to Stanford, full ride.”

This time both of Bobby's eyebrows went up, and he whistled. “Damn, boy, that's great. So what's the problem?”

“Dean.” Sam raked a hand through his hair, eyes locked on a drop of condensation running down the neck of his bottle. “I don't know how to tell him, Bobby, he's going to be devastated. I mean, I think he'll be happy for me but... he's not going to want me to go, too. It's gonna be easier on him, he won't have to deal with me and Dad fighting all the time. I don't even want to tell Dad. I will, just...” Sam shook his head, sighed. His eyes finally flicked up to meet Bobby's. “I just needed to get away for a bit. I left a note for Dean, I'm sure he'll be here to get me in the morning.”

Bobby nodded. “'s fine. Don't let John stop you, you hear me? He means well, but he'll be worried about you leavin'.”

“Yeah,” was all Sam said. There was a finality to his tone that said he was done for now. That was fine—the boy clearly needed a rest.

Sam spent most of the day sleeping on the couch, but that didn't stop him from climbing into bed with Bobby that night. He brushed off Bobby's protests about Sam _definitely_ being too old for this and burrowed in just like he did when he was younger, only this time he ended up with his face buried in the older man's throat. His breath was warm, and Bobby was all too conscious of it rushing over his skin.

“I don't sleep well by myself,” Sam mumbled.

He was out before Bobby could respond. 

~

The fourth time, Sam was about to die.

No, it was worse than that. He was about to go to Hell. 

Sam and Dean had been back in his life for a few years now, but there was never a repeat of Sam slipping into his room. Not until now, with the battle for the world going down tomorrow and Sam's plan to hurl himself along with Lucifer into the pit. 

Bobby didn't even hesitate to let Sam in, to wrap both arms around him and hold on tight like he could keep him there by strength alone. Sam held him back just as tightly, face tucked into Bobby's throat, and one leg thrown over the older man's. 

“Please don't stop me,” Sam whispered.

Bobby rubbed his back, slow circles like when Sam was a child. “Not gonna, Sam. Just wish there was another way.”

“I didn't mean that,” Sam murmured. “I meant this.”

Lips pressed just beneath Bobby's jaw, open and wet. The older hunter jerked back, eyes wide despite the fact that he could see little in the dark. 

“The hell, Sam?” he barked, but Sam was already on him again, shoving Bobby on his back and pressing their foreheads together.

“Please,” Sam panted, hands already working at Bobby's nightshirt. “Used to fantasize about this when I was a kid. Almost did something that night I came to tell you about Stanford. This is my last chance.”

It was the “last chance” that did it, had something snapping in Bobby that made him reach out and tangle a hand in Sam's long hair. Sam was a beautiful man, just like he was a beautiful boy, but it was something he never let himself think, wasn't a thought he'd even been aware he'd suppressed until this moment. 

It felt strange to pull the younger hunter into a kiss when Bobby could still remember holding the child version of him in his arms, but he pushed it aside. If this was Sam's last request before he went to goddamn  _Hell,_ then Bobby sure as hell wasn't going to deny him.

Especially when no part of him even wanted to try.

Sam was frantic, sucking harsh kisses into Bobby's throat and jaw, hands tearing at clothing when it wouldn't give. In the end Bobby took over, undressed them both and pulled Sam on top of him. He guided Sam's movements with hands on his hips, offered what thin comfort he could in kisses and a firm hand in Sam's hair. When Sam came, there was a fraction of a second where he looked blissed out, happy even, and that alone made it worth it. 

Sam whispered filthy things in Bobby's ear when he came, teenage fantasies and all the things he wanted to try. Bobby found himself promising it all to him, after they saved the world.

For a moment there was nothing but their slowly calming breath. Then Sam said darkly, “I don't get an after,” and heaved himself out of bed.

Bobby tried to call him back, but in the end he let him go.

Better now than later.

~

The fifth time, Sam was newly re-souled and damaged in ways even Dean couldn't comprehend. But he was alive, the wall keeping the memories of Hell at bay was holding, and they had a week alone while Dean did a solo hunt to give Sam some time to recuperate. 

The first night Sam crawled into his bed, they only slept. Bobby gripped him hard and swore to himself he'd never let him go again, not even if it was for the world.

The second night, Bobby kept his promise.

~

END

 


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